


Gone Two Seconds

by fadedlullaby



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:03:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedlullaby/pseuds/fadedlullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basically mickey walks in on ian in a really bad situation</p><p>this is gonna have a lot of chapters so don't worry!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone Two Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> I APOLOGIZE FOR BEING CRAPPY AND NOT CONTINUING THIS TILL NOW

"I'm sorry sir but he'll have to stay here we can't release him. But, you will get to visit him during 4:00PM to..." the nurses voice fades out while Mickey's mind falls back to the reason he's there in the first place. 

-

He swears it was two seconds. He was gone for two seconds. Mickey stepped out to go check on how the bar business was going and did not expect to come back to what he saw. 

Ian had not stood up from his bed in eight days. Eight days. His mind was boggling things he just couldn't handle. The helicopter crash was repeating over and over. Mickey's face from when he left him. Over and over. Was he even worthy of living? Was there even a point? So he stood up. Tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes one blink from pouring out. He walks into the kitchen, grabs a hold of the counter, and takes a deep breath. Nobody was home. Mickey had left. Svetlana and her girlfriend were "working". Mandy was out with Kenyata. And Ian was home. Nobody could stop him.

"As if anyone would try", he whispered to himself. 

So he opened the drawer. He grabbed a hold of the knife. He gripped the knife so tight his knuckles went white almost see through. He stood up straight and stared into space. 

"I love you Fiona. I love you Lip. I love you Debbie. I love you Carl. I love you Liam. I love you Mandy...", he paused, shaking from the tears streaming down his face, "and... I love you Mickey. So so so much. And I know you love me too." And at that moment he brought the knife to his left forearm and slid it over his skin. Once, twice, thrice, and many more. He fell. He dropped and was passed out on the Milkovich kitchen floor with blood spewing out of his arm. 

That was when Mickey walked in. The kitchen was in plain sight. And so was Ian. There was a little pool of blood around Ian's arm. Mickey rushed to Ian's aid grabbing his limp body from the floor. 

"Ian.... Ian please man c’mon wake up!", Mickey was frantic. "Ian c’mon man don’t to this to me.... I-Ian please..", and that’s where he lost it. Tears were pouring from his eyes. He stood up and called 911. His entire body shaking and sobbing over Ian's limp and almost lifeless one. 

-

The ambulance arrived and took them to South Chicago Mental Institution and Medical Facility. So that’s where Mickey is now. Drowning out the sound of the annoying nurse's voice and just hoping he gets to see Ian's face.

“Wait wait wait so when can I see him?”, Mickey asks hearing the nurses’ last words from her annoying little speech. 

“You can start seeing him in 72 hours”, the nurse adds. 

He gets his fingers and starts counting off how long that would be in his head. He realizes and freezes. “So you’re fucking telling me I can’t see him for three fucking days?”, he says practically yelling at the poor lady.

“I’m sorry sir but he’s very fragile right now. He can’t see anyone or speak to anyone because it may trigger him into another atta…”, she’s cut off by Mickey’s refusal.

“No you don’t understand alright? He needs to see me. I need to see him. I need to know he’s okay. I-I can’t fucking lose him again. I fucking…”, he finds himself hitting his back again and sinking down to the floor. And he doesn’t cry. Mickey never cries. Well, at least he doesn’t let anyone see him cry. 

The nurse walks up to him and sinks down to the floor next to him. “Is he your brother, friend, cousin?”, she says slowly getting closer to Mickey in his delicate state.

“He’s my…”, he stops himself to think about what he’s about to say, “We’re together.” Yeah, that sounds better. He’s not ready for “that word” yet.

“Oh”, the nurse presents a hand to rest on Mickey’s arm. “Come with me. I may get in trouble for this but just don’t tell my boss.”

The nurse grabs Mickey’s hand, lifts him up, and leads him down what seem to be endless hallways. To the left, to the right, through some doors that need a card swipe, and he ends up in a ward that smells like rubbing alcohol, grade f coffee, and rubber gloves. She continues down and he thinks she’s pulling his leg and is actually kicking him the hell out of the hospital. Passing by the closed doors through the tiny windows they permitted he saw kids younger than Ian, hell they could be Carl’s age, sitting in a room of all white laying in bed. Numb. 

“He’s on the door on the right. We cleaned his cuts up and bandaged him up. We’ve tried to give him food but he just screams to go away”, she informs him. “If you wouldn’t have found him so early on how you did, I don’t think he would have lasted.”

Mickey takes a deep breath and approaches the room to take a peep in. It’s a clear maybe 11x11 inch box with scratchy plastic separating him from Ian. He looks through and finds him exactly how he left him at home. Covered. Eyes drooped. The only difference in the boy’s physique was the thick white bandage wrapped around his arm. Mickey’s tempted to tap on the glass but he knows they really wont let him back in if Ian actually sees him.

“So,” he separates from the door slowly wiping the tears from his eyes, “three days?” he asks.

“Yes sir,” she tells him. “But you can always come and stay outside of his room. We have a waiting room, well our coffee room, that you can stay in if you really feel you need to. There’s a couch in there, a TV, vending machines, the works.”

She looks over at Mickey who still seems a bit lost and dazed on the whole situation as if it weren’t actually happening to him.

“You really love him don’t you?” she asks approaching Mickey and putting a small hand on his back.

He snaps out of it. What did she say? Love? What? No, listen he doesn’t… well he’s never… well. No okay? No. “Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies. It’s his response every time.


End file.
